Things Left Unsaid
by AggieVGirl
Summary: Ch.3 up! 'I have fought in the greatest battle of my time, leading men on seemingly suicide missions, I have taken up a duty that was never meant for me, yet I cannot keep track of one blasted ring'
1. Chapter 1

_My first attempt at a multiple chapter story. I have an outline for the story but have not written all the chapters. I love reviews but I love concrit even more!_

_Faramir accidentally discovers the underground world of Minas Tirith that none knew to exist and becomes more submerged in the affairs than he would like to be. _

_Edited once for spelling and vocabulary_

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**CHAPTER 1 **  
Questions 

'At two in the morning most people are asleep,' was the only thought of a particular young man as he marched determinedly towards the sixth level. But then again, most people were not the King's scribe, and most people were not required to be at the immediate bidding of the King and his Steward. Sighing to himself, the young man entered into the labyrinth commonly known as the Houses of Healing.

He could not believe what he had heard, but the Steward himself had proclaimed it true! The young scribe had been charged to record one of the most shocking and unbelievable tales, yet it was not a tale, it was fact. How could no one have noticed this activity, surely someone would have reported it. 'Well,' the scribe reminded himself, 'some of the guards were involved, and it being a time of war an all, people were more concerned with happenings outside the city walls rather than within them.'

"Findegil! What in the name of all that's good are you doing here? And at this time of night too! Be gone, I have patients to attend to."

Turning abruptly and nearly knocking to elderly healer off her feet, Findegil turned to meet the person he had been looking for.

"I'm sorry if I've disturbed you ma'am, but I had to see for myself if it was true."

"So the Steward's word isn't good enough for you any more, is it?"

Chuckling to himself, Findegil replied, "Surely Ioreth you should know by now us scholars are never satisfied. We are always looking for answers, even though there may be no question."

Ioreth shook her head at the scribe and offered him a sad smile. "Come, we will talk over a cup of tea. No good will come from discussing this matter in the cold night."

"But ma'am it is mid spring, the weather is not so cold."

"And I am not so young! Come boy; help an old woman to the kitchen will you?"

Smiling to himself, Findegil offered his arm and guided the woman down the hall to the healer's kitchens.

xxxx

"Now what is it you want to know?"

The healer's kitchen was small and industrial, not the cozy little cottage kitchen he had originally pictured years ago, but Findegil had grown accustom to the clean and proper feeling that spread through the Healing Wards. His discomfort was a speck of dust compared to the misfortune of those he would soon be writing about.

"Is she really here?"

"Yes….and she's not the only one. Members of The Ring are here as well until they are fit be relocated to the prisons. Though they know they've been disbanded, many still have a mouthful to say to our King, I tell you. It's all I can do not give them an overdose of their potion!"

"Extraordinary!"

"Humph, if that's what you call it." Ioreth began washing the mugs and put the kettle away. "The girl will recover no doubt…but every time I rebind her wounds," Ioreth began scrubbing harder at the mug, "I can't believe what I'm seeing! The King is completely justified in his anger as far as I'm concerned. He should have been informed immediately!"

The healer was scrubbing so hard at the mug it was a surprise the thing didn't break in two. "And do what," Findegil replied calmly while removing the mug from Ioreth's hands, "no one could have guessed the extent of this when Faramir first stumbled upon it. The King would have gone to the tavern with his Steward and a couple men, at most, only to be slaughtered!"

"Oh you're right as usual," Ioreth sobbed, "and the poor Queen would've been left at the hands of whoever entered the hall first! And Rohan! It had never crossed my mind before, but surely we would loose them as an ally if The Ring had gotten it's way. The men from the north are so kind too."

During her speech Ioreth had led the way out of the kitchen and back down the hall until the pair stopped infront of the room where Ioreth had been working until interrupted by Findegil. Eyeing the scribe skeptically the healer warned, "I'll let you see her, but if she doesn't want to answer any of your questions you let her be you understand?"

Nodding in agreement, the scribe cautiously went into the room. Though dimly lit, Findegil still made out the form lying on the bed. She was awake it seemed. Before the scribe could begin his questioning, the woman made eye contact with the man. Backing slowly out of the room, Findegil quietly excused himself and made his way back to his apartment. That one look had confirmed what he wanted to know. The horrors Lord Faramir had been describing were not embellished, and were in fact all too real.

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TBC... 

_Well, hopefully some people find this somewhat interesting. Please tell me what you think short I know. The next chapter we'll jump back in time to the beginning of these events. _


	2. Chapter 2

_I knew this would happen. I'm sorry, I really am, but I have no intention of leaving this story unfinished. Hopefully I will progress faster now. _

_Faramir accidentally discovers the underground world of Minas Tirith that none knew to exist and becomes more submerged in the affairs than he would like to be. _

**

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CHAPTER 2**  
Long Live the Steward

"Let us tell them at once!"

"Eat your breakfast my love."

Sighing to herself, Arwen returned to her meal despite not being hungry. A few strands of her hair had fallen in front of her face, but before she thought to push them out of the way, a hand had already swept them behind her ear. Looking up she met the loving eyes of her husband. "I must insist you withhold your affections in public, my lord," she whispered to him, "people may begin to suspect we are in love."

"A crime indeed! What do you propose, my Lady? A week in the torture chambers to redeem ourselves perhaps?"

"Oh, you horrid man!" Arwen shrieked while Aragorn laughed. "I believe you've done enough already." To emphasis her point, Arwen made a show of jabbing her fork in the direction of her husband.

"Peace with you my Queen, I should hate for Gondor to lose her new found King so soon!" Faramir had been searching the Citadel for the King the better part of his morning. In his haste, he had failed to look in the obvious place for his Lord and Lady, their private dinning hall.

"And how fairs the noble Steward this morning?" Aragorn turned to face Faramir. Though Faramir was much more comfortable around the king then he was a few months ago, the Steward still could not bear the full intensity of Aragorn's all knowing eyes. His grey eyes accompanied by the elf's mysterious smile were almost too much for Faramir this morning. Bowing low and answering the question politely, Faramir prepared to ask his question.

"My Lord, I know it may be an inconvenience, and I apologize for the abruptness, but I would ask leave from my duties for the remainder of the day."

"Well, this is an unforeseen dilemma. A whole day without my Steward to do my bidding…" seeing the anxiety in Faramir's eyes, Aragorn barely resisted the urge to smile. "I shall grant you you're request, on one condition my lord Faramir."

"Anything my King."

"Upon the morrow, you will be responsible for organizing a feast for all city-folk in honor and celebration of my wife's pregnancy."

xxxx

"_My wife thinks I'm with my mum  
Really I've been sippin' the rum  
My mum thinks I'm with my wife  
Instead o' drinking the sweet elixir of life!"_

"Really you two, your last night in town and you pick this place to stay? The sun has hardly set and already the drunks are out." Malbung and Damrod chuckled at Faramir's statement. Before their former captain could chastise them any more, and couple of young waitresses came by with three mugs of their finest ale. As they set the drinks down, Malbung winked at them, setting them off into a fit of giggles that didn't die down until the girls were far away from the table.

"And that is why we've chosen this place, my friend!" Laughing, the three clashed their mugs together and downed their first drink within the minute. One of the young ladies returned to fill their mugs, and the three men talked about past times, before the war with the Dark Lord.

In many ways, this night was bittersweet for Faramir. He was no longer stationed with the Ithilien Rangers. Many of them had been stationed in Minas Tirith to help rebuild the city. Slowly though, the units had been leaving. Tonight was the last night Damrod and Malbung would spend in the city for a good nine months or so. Though Faramir was grateful to be leaving the life of a soldier, the friend he had made during his time serving had become his family. He would still see them of course, but it would not be the same as before. 'But is that so bad,' Faramir reminded himself, 'we are entering peaceful times. And soon enough I will be starting a new family with the fair lady Eowyn.'

"Excuse me my lord."

Bringing himself back to the present, Faramir turned to see who had addressed him. A young man, no more than twenty five at most, stood behind Faramir's seat with a look of awe in his eyes. Seeing he had the Steward's attention, the man continued.

"Excuse me, but if I'm not mistaken, you are Lord Faramir, are you not?"

"I am." Though initial suspicious, Faramir decided to remain polite in his manner until he was given reason to behave otherwise. "May I be of assistance?"

Falling to his knees, the young man crawled towards Faramir, took the Steward's hand and kissed his ring. Malbung and Damrod were both grasping their swords and watching the man with great suspicion. Faramir was too surprised to react. Staring intensely into Faramir's eyes, the young man declared, "Long live the Steward of Gondor!"

A few men in the tavern repeated this man's words, while falling to one knee in respect for their steward. Slightly amused, Faramir replied to their chants with "Long live the King of Gondor!" However, this declaration was received by silence and blank stares from the majority of the tavern's occupants.

Rising from his knee, yet still holding Faramir's hand, the young man again stared deeply into his lord's eyes. This time the intensity was nearly too strong for Faramir, but he held the gaze and kept an outward appearance of indifference. With a note of finality in his voice, he repeated "Long life the Steward of Gondor."

xxxx

"What do you make of it Damrod?"

"Make of what?"

"The young man at _The Red Horse_ tonight?"

Damrod knew Malbung would not leave this topic alone. Soon after the incident, Faramir had decided he would call it an early night and had bid the two good night and good luck. Because neither was tired, the two rangers sat on the porch of a more reputable inn, having already paid for their rooms. "I can't say I'm surprised," Damrod finally said. "It seemed unrealistic that everyone would take to a stranger from the north suddenly ruling over them. We've been without a king for so long; I don't think any of us really expected him to return."

"Aye."

The two became lost in their own thoughts, staring at the stars and enjoying the night air. Malbung rose and began to head inside the inn. Pausing at the door he turned to look at his friend, and Damrod waited for him to speak. Finally, Malbung hesitantly said, "If it came down to it, I think I'd serve my steward before my king."

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_TBC..._

_Not the most exciting chapter, but the stage must be set in order for events to unfold. Input is greatly appreciated! _


	3. Chapter 3

_Hopefully people reading this aren't too confused. It will all come together eventually, I promise._

_Summary: Faramir accidentally discovers the underground world of Minas Tirith that none knew to exist and becomes more submerged in the affairs than he would like to be._

**

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CHAPTER 3**  
First Glimpse

After Faramir had said goodbye to his comrades, the only thought that consumed his mind was lying in a cold bath. However, between his departure from the tavern and his arrival at his temporary room in The King's House, Faramir had decided that a soak in a hot bath was just what he needed after enduring the crisp night.

As the servants prepared his bath, Faramir pondered the events that had taken place at _The Red Horse_ that night. He knew the people of Gondor respected him, and he knew his military needs were well appreciated. But, never had he seen someone act like that around him. And the young man's reaction to the mention of his king left much to be desired. 'As if there is no respect for his leader,' Faramir thought to himself, 'or as if he doesn't acknowledge the king's return. Surely, the people should be happy to be released from the reign of the stewards. Heavens know my predecessor was far from an ideal ruler.'

Having learned long ago to trust his instincts, Faramir knew there was more to what he had witnessed that night. No one would be stupid enough to express their dislike for the king in front of the steward unless they knew they were protected. Unless the declaration was some sort of distraction, or merely a way to get the stewards attention

"Your bath is ready my lord."

Dismissing the servant with a nod of his head, Faramir began to undress, welcoming the distraction a hot bath also brought. 'Perhaps I am over-thinking the issue. The downfall of the Dark Lord and the coming of The King are still current events. The people will soon become accustomed to the routine and find they enjoy it.' With these reassuring thoughts in mind, Faramir's eyes widened in shock as he reached for his ring of office. 'It's missing?'

Within a matter of minutes, Faramir's room was turned upside-down. Pocket's were torn inside out, boots were shaken, blankets were ripped off the bed, vases from Harad carelessly rolled across the floor, books of elvish lore were shoved off table tops, and still Faramir could not find his ring. Slumping beside his bed, the newly appointed Steward of Gondor used all his willpower to keep his tears at bay.

'How could I have been so careless? I have lost my ring of office. Anyone could have it, jeopardizing the security of Gondor itself! I have fought in the greatest battle of my time, leading men on seemingly suicide missions, I have taken up a duty that was never meant for me, and I have held my own against Rohan's King while asking for his sister's hand in marriage, yet I cannot keep track of one blasted ring!'

'I'll just think back to everything I did this day.' After repeating every event of his day in as much detail as possible, Faramir could not restrain himself from slamming his fist into the nearest pillow. 'That man at _The Red Horse_, he stole it!'

"My lord, your bath has grown co--oh my! I shall fetch the maids at once."

"There is no need, I think I can manage cleaning my own room once in awhile," the steward offered a half smile to the distract servant. It was an old joke that the sons of the late Denethor could not take care of themselves for one day. When Faramir was seven, Boromir had overheard the servants complaining about the mess the boys left wherever they went. After relaying the conversation to his brother, Boromir decided that this kind of disrespect would not be tolerated. The two came to the agreement that they would be as destructive as possible without evoking their father's anger. For years, the staff never suspected the lads were creating the mess on purpose. Once the plot was uncovered though, the staff could not help but smile a little every time something out of place happened. Even after the two had grown and joined the army, they always found time to leave a little mess and destruction after their visits to the citadel.

The servant returned Faramir's smile, recognizing his presence was not needed nor wanted. "I shall leave you to your thoughts then, my lord?" After receiving a nod from the Steward, the man turned to leave.

"The dogs haven't been bathed in awhile, and I do not think the king appreciates such lack of attentiveness on the part of his staff."

As the servant closed the doors he replied, "I shall see to that, my lord Steward."

Faramir leaned back against the bed with closed eyes and listened to the servant's footsteps fade out as the man walked further away. Soon after, the sound of two men could be heard walking towards the bathing chamber, followed by their muttering as they, at Faramir's guess, moved the tube of water to a place more suitable for the dogs. Only after there was complete silence in the hall did Faramir return to his dilemma.

'I do not know who the man was, and I cannot simply barge into the tavern and expect the bartender to remember everyone who happened to walk through the door. I can only hope he is a regular visitor, preferably late at night, seeing as that is the only time I will be able to leave. The royal couple must not know of my error.'

Pulling himself up, Faramir tried to put these depressing thoughts out of his mind, and focus on rearranging his room. Thinking back, Faramir could not remember the last time he had had to clean up after one of his destructive rampages. Suddenly the steward had a newfound respect for his, or rather now the king's, staff.

xxxx

"You can't go back on the deal now, I have the ring. Just pore the wax and sign the document."

In a dimly lit corner of _The Red Horse's_ cellar sat two people. The night was crisp and the cellar air was cold, but the two individuals kept their hoods up for a different reason. Neither knew each other, and neither wished to either. Because neither of the two knew what they were doing, but both knew it was a highly illegal activity they were taking part in. The two figures didn't move, and the candle was starting to burn low.

"Quit hesitating. I'm runnin' the same risks you are here. I will not allow my family to be put in danger due to your second thoughts." A knife was pulled from the speakers boots and glistened threateningly in the flickering candle light. The second individual could make out a faint bloodstain on the blade.

Sighing, the second man reached into the pocket of his shirt and pulled out a piece of parchment. An ink well and quill was pushed toward him. 'I am doing this for my family,' he told himself as ink dripped onto the paper. 'My son needs to eat, my daughter should be marrying instead of wasting the day away working, and my wife…' The quill glided across the parchment easily, creating an elegant, important, and official touch to the signature. 'I need to find a way to ease my wife's pains. I fear she'll leave me and our children soon if I don't do something.' Hot wax was poured next to the signature and the ring was pressed into it, completing the forgery of the steward's signature.

Quickly the two left the inn, exiting through different doors once out of the cellar. The paper was left on the table. The paper sat there until a nearby candle was nearly extinguished, when a young girl came down into the cellar with a candle of her own and retrieved the fake document. The girl then proceeded out of the cellar and to the second floor of the tavern, where she slipped the document under the door of a room, room number twenty-one. Blowing out the candle, the girl ran down the stairs and to her quarters near the kitchen as quietly as possible. She knew that once she got their, a small purse of coins would be on her pillow.

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_TBC…_

_So I hope this chapter was a little more exciting to read. Events from last chapter might make a little more sense now. Thanks to all those who have reviewed so far! I wish more people would do it… : wink wink :_


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